


Who Got the Cream

by 100dabbo



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Catmaid!Robert, Coming Untouched, Daddy Kink, Deepthroating, Feminization, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-10-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26984797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/100dabbo/pseuds/100dabbo
Summary: After being seemingly absent from their home, Robert surprises Eames with his outfit. A catmaid.
Relationships: Eames/Robert Fischer
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Who Got the Cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cattycat1310](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cattycat1310/gifts).



> Happy birthday Cat! I love you so much!!! We have both mutually obsessed over this idea, and so, I finally present to you: catmaid!Robert :)

The key slipped into the lock smoothly, its jagged teeth fitting into each pin before it was turned and the doorhandle could twist open.

Eames’ fingertips lingered on the steel handle as he opened the door, stepping past its threshold and into the bright foyer. Robert should have been home too, before him, in fact, and so to find his front door locked, to find it sealed in front of him, was cause for question.

His eyes looked around. The coat Robert had worn to work that morning was hanging over the coatrack, his shoes were placed neatly together where they usually were, and there was a trail of two more articles leading up the stairs. It was only his suit jacket and tie, lazily draped in their deflated forms over the initial steps of the staircase.

The first thought Eames had in regard to their position there, was that Robert had merely been taken them off in haste. They hinted towards more of a spontaneous undressing than a planned one, and perhaps in a start of his discombobulated frustration, he’d locked the door before shirking them off and onto the ground. 

Secondarily, however, the lust driven mind that Eames possessed was quick to come to another conclusion, and that was that he’d disrobed for a reason more lewd.

He took one more step inside, letting the heavy door fall closed behind him and thud into the frame to echo in the vast, open space that the entrance of their home provided, and he set his briefcase down beside the coatrack to make the investigation into Robert’s whereabouts. 

The fatigue he’d sustained from his long day at work had nearby evaporated as the possibility of quick coition entered his mind, and rather than his mission being to sleep on his bed, as his earlier state had so wished for, he was now hankering for a man to plough into it, that man still nowhere to be found even as he walked up the stairs and into their room.

The only movement he could see was the gentle sway of their bed’s sheer drapes, waving its material with the guidance of the warm wind coming through the opened balcony. Things felt off. That door would usually _always_ be closed by the maids every morning. 

In his rituals, Robert often took his first steps out onto that back porch to admire the view from the back of the house; the city skyline of LA in the distance, the rolling hills reaching the expanse of the west, and the long stretch of sea right across the horizon to the east, and most often than not, he would neglect to close it again when he’d return to the inside for his morning shower.

Same went for the clothes downstairs, they ought to have been picked up by some staff almost as soon as they were placed down, not left carelessly for Eames to discover, even if it did allude to Robert’s intentions of the evening. 

He walked inside, his hands caressing the waving fabric with the tips of his fingers as he walked past the bed, and he stepped out onto the balcony to brace his hands on the ledge and peer into the garden below. The pool was empty, as were the deck chairs lined up beside it, and the trees merely mimicked the same calm sway as the drapes while the wind caressed their sides.

The only other place he would be was the living room. 

With one last glance over the lawn, Eames came back inside, loosening the constriction that his tie gave around his neck while sliding the door shut again, the thoughts of what he was to do with Robert once he was found stirring in his mind, what worthy treatment he’d receive for leading him on such a mystery chase. He left their room, walked down the stairs once more and swung into the hallway to find the open living room.

The couches were oriented in such a fashion that he was forced to glance around them to be sure anyone was there, and sure enough, upon inspection, they too were empty. He sat down anyway, flinging himself into the centre to slouch amongst the soft cushions and gain some sort of comfort before he was to be back on his feet and finding him, sighing heavily in the silence.

But then a thought came to him. Perhaps the front door was locked after _leaving_ , not entering.

He dived his hand into his trouser pocket to check the phone that hadn’t even crossed his mind, and yet, as the screen flashed on in front of his eyes, no notifications were there to stare back at him, only a photo of himself and his beloved smiling sweetly. A slight grin quirked up his lips, but not before he was reminded of his absence. Nothing had happened, right? Nothing Eames could remember anyway.

Not an anniversary, or an event, or an emergency?

No, he was just a temporarily lonesome man in his huge house without his other half to spend his evening with. It wasn’t even nearly close to dinner, and it was far too late for him to be on some kind of work lunch, so for what reason would Robert have left the house? None.

And indeed, he hadn’t.

In that solitary silence, Eames’ ears pricked up to suddenly hear the sound of a jingling bell play out behind him. It wasn’t immediate that he realised what it was.

He turned his head around as it continued, and from the hallway, outstepped an image from a wet dream.

Robert Fischer was stood in white stockings that hugged his legs up to his thighs. 

They were the first things to catch Eames’ eye rather than the rest of it: the accompaniment of a black dress, like a French maid, its skirt and petticoat floating over his hips to only just conceal his matching garters.

The origin of the ringing sound could be seen plainly over his neck too, a small velvet choker with a little golden bell, shining brightly as it swung from side to side.

A pair of small cat ears were there to crown his head, sitting atop his hair with white lace between them, fashioning the band like a bonnet. 

Eames would be incorrect to assume that that was as far as Robert’s feline pretence was about to go. 

The two had still yet to say a word to one another, and Robert vowed not to be the first to break the silence as he stepped forward, passing the couch, and approached the fireplace to wave his feather duster in front of it. The man had clearly never done a day’s cleaning in his life, and while that much was obvious as he feigned some light brushes across it, Eames hardly minded the way his body bent over to reach the mantle.

His apron, adjusted right on the front of the dress, led its fastenings behind his back, crossing over his shoulders to bow neatly over the skirt, and if Eames’ cock wasn’t already starting to stiffen at that sight, the way that very skirt lifted up while Robert placed himself on his hands and knees surely aided in doing so. The garters had revealed themselves more clearly at that angle, and with the small lift of his chin, Eames could effortlessly peak a glimpse while the man made his ‘work’. That was the same moment he saw that his ears weren’t the limit of the costume.

A black fur tail was hanging between his thighs, coming from beneath the skirt, undoubtedly attached to a plug. 

The bell continued lightly jingling with each of his movements, every little sway of his body while his arms reached above to do whatever they were doing, but it wasn’t the only noise Robert aimed to make in this prelude to the inevitable. He grinned to himself, fully knowing Eames was paying him complete attention, and he expelled a minute moan of effort, high pitched and as breathy as a whisper, but audible, nonetheless.

After hearing a sound as inviting as that, getting his attention was Eames’ first motive.

“Robert.”

He heard the calling and smiled to bask in the success of finding his interest.

He looked over his shoulder with a bitten lip, both hands still fixed on the ground, knees similarly positioned, and hips angled upwards to provide a fine display of his arse, even if it was still in the dress. His doe eyes blinked in lieu of a ‘yes’, and his head cocked to the side, the faux naivety of his expression translating his innocence in the whole matter.

The penetrating stare of Eames’ lusting eyes made his cock give a little twitch, and his teeth pushed themselves further into his rosy lip. A curled finger beckoned him over to the sofa that the other man was sitting on, his legs now spread apart to accommodate his surely stiff dick, and he obeyed without question. His little grin returned to him while letting go of the duster to make his way towards him, remaining on hands and knees to crawl over, chest pushed up and arse pushed out, one hand in front of the other and legs following behind, stocking clad knees rubbing on the soft carpet beneath.

The coffee table had already been moved out of the way, a pre-emptive move from Robert made when he’d gotten home, undoubtedly to ensure for an easier path from the fireplace to Eames’ crotch, and he did indeed make his journey with ease, sitting down on his knees between the other man’s thighs, looking up at him patiently.

“Is there something you need, sir?” He asked, smoothing his palms across them, gradually raising up to his groin, “Something I can do for you?”

Eames’ hand raised up the back of Robert’s head, his thumb brushing against a velvet ear,

“I don’t know, my little kitten, is there something you want?”

Robert moaned at the name and brushed his fingers up to Eames’ zipper, trailing them along the fabric until he was met with the metal fastenings, forcing them open while the tip of his tongue danced on his upper lip.

He grasped onto the bulge carefully, feeling its size and weight and hardness within the confines of its underwear, and nodded slowly, excitedly pushing himself forward in anticipation of having it all to himself. Just as much as Eames had been wanting that mouth on him since he’d walked through the door and noticed the discarded clothes, Robert had been yearning for it the second they’d departed from one another that morning; every bite of food he ate, every sip of drink he took, just imagining how much he’d rather have a cock – his cock – between his cheeks instead.

And there it was, inches away from his lips as he brushed his cheek along the inner seam of Eames’ trousers, keening with small moans and wide, blinking eyes, ready to be swallowed and sucked, slipped into that silky throat and worshipped the way it deserved to be.

The next stroke from Eames’ hand was what he took as permission to do what he liked, and slowly, he took it out, angling it towards his open mouth. His tongue extended itself slowly, offering a small lick to the head before sliding it across his lips and taking it in carefully, coating it with his hot saliva.

Eames groaned upon contract, leaning himself further back into the cushions to enjoy the wet motions of that mouth, feeling the gentle hums he gave out in his contentedness, seeing his cheeks fill out with his girth and swallow his own spittle to suck around him, beginning to bob his head with nice little nods. His bell was ringing out again, shaking on the choker with his quick motions, his velvet ears flopping ever so slightly and lustrous hair bouncing along with it too.

The blue eyes that stared back at his were wide and innocent, signature of Robert’s lusting expression, and the same slow blinks ensued just before he dipped his head down all the way into his crotch to swallow that cock whole. The warm, wet cavern of his throat caused Eames’ next groan to come out louder, deeper, more confident, than the last, and a short shake of Robert’s head was offered in a request for some merited praise. Eames’ hands wrapped themselves around his head, one on his nape, the other on his crown, before commending his performance,

“That’s Daddy’s good little kitten, take that cock _all_ the way…”

He received a hum of gratification in reply, like it was what he had been waiting to hear all day. Such words would frequently be the cause of Robert’s climax, whether he would be pleasuring himself, Eames, or the both of them, and so he couldn’t help but picture, then, how beneath that cutesy dress, beneath its layers of fabrics and underwear, Robert’s little cock was bound to be strained with such delicious arousal, that he’d most likely already be leaking pre-come.

With both of his hands fully braced on Eames’ thighs, his fingers clawed at the fabric before Robert rose up for air, and in that second, Eames remembered that darling little plug of his was still sitting there in his hole, nudging inside of him with every rock back onto his knees.

His smiling lips shone with gloss and saliva, that pink tongue wiping across the lower to chase the drip, and Eames evolved his grasp to be firmer on the back of his head. The man whimpered sweetly and giggled from the force, breaking eye-contact to drop his gaze back onto that throbbing cock he wanted to take again. Eames knew where Robert wanted it to be, and that much was painfully obvious from the strength of his desirous stare.

A tilt of his head was the result of a short pull on Robert’s hair, angling his chin up to encourage the meeting of their eyes once more, and he said the same thing that had to easily gained his attention last time,

“Robert.”

Fischer looked up at him almost immediately, applying all of his impulse control to resist staring back at the precious cock in his lower peripheral, and replied,

“Yes, Daddy?”

Like the little minx that he was, he bit at his bottom lip again while he raised himself up on his knees, giving their levels equal stature even if he remained knelt at his thighs. Eames said nothing more and simply brought a hand from Robert’s head to pat his lap. Without a moment of hesitation, the other man crawled up, slipping his hands to Eames’ chest, over his shoulders and around the back of his neck, his legs straddling over his hips to let his flowing skirt concealing his dick too.

He grinned when looking down into Eames’ desiring eyes as he asked, “Will you take my shirt off for me?” 

After the flicker of faux contemplation passed over Robert’s eyes, the man slipped his slender hands to the loose tie around his neck, pulling it from its knot and flinging it to the other side of the couch.

“Of course, Daddy.”

He made quick work of the buttons, though allowed himself the time to be slower than his usual rapidity when caught up in the prospect of coition, moving at his own leisure as bit by bit, the hairy expanse of Eames’ tattooed chest was revealed, down to those chiselled abs and the bush of pubic hair revealed by his open fly. He pulled each side of the shirt to his shoulders, leaning in close and grinding his clothed cock against the other’s hard member, tugging it off his arms.

Their lips were inches apart, then fractions, then quickly joined together in a rapid push as the shirt was shirked away with force of a similar fervour to that of the swirls of his tongue around Robert’s. He discarded it behind him, forgotten, hearing Robert on top of him squealing once his hands grabbed at his waist, encircling it with his fingers.

Fischer couldn’t help the expulsion of a breathless ‘Daddy’ against his lips as he was tackled down with his back on the sofa, bell jingling all the while, with the cushions surrounding him and Eames looming up above.

“Are you desperate for Daddy’s cock? Hm?”

“Yes!” Robert breathed, moaning against the harsh scruff of Eames beard, feeling it travel south and meet his lips to his neck.

“Be a good boy and tell me how _much_ you want it.” Was all he commanded before latching his mouth onto that pale throat, sucking on the sensitive skin with arduous movement and power, still pinning him to the soft cushions, his bell ringing out as he writhed.

“Ah! So badly, Daddy! So, so bad!”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh!”

Eames knelt back up, looking down on his little maid, grasping back onto his hips to pull him closer. As if by instinct, the man’s legs parted wide, setting on display his tail plug, laid flat beneath him. Upon insertion, he’d probably already stretched himself out and lubed up. Well, that wasn’t to mean Eames wouldn’t be preparing him for himself.

He stood up, kicking the shoes from his feet and pulling the trousers from his legs to make him naked all but for his socks.

“Turn over for me.” He said, letching at the beauty before him. 

Robert just rubbed his legs together, the soft stockings slipping against each other as his knees brushed against his shins. His toes curled and his hands gripped to the cushions. A coquettish shake of his head ensued next, bell ringing along with the light giggle he let out.

An eyebrow raise from Eames and grasp to his ankle make his laugh a little louder, swaying his legs in the grip to pretend resistance to his action, and he tilted his head to the side inquisitively, ear folding against the armrest,

“How much do _you_ want it, Daddy?” He dared to ask, his words making what was originally a bubbling lust in Eames’ loins boil over. He seized his ankle more tightly, pulling him toward him, flipping him over onto his front and pressing his face into the armrest.

He looked behind him as Eames landed his left hand flat over his shoulder blade, his right lifting up his skirt and petticoat, feeling onto the soft fur attached to the plug. The sound of his sweet laugh resounded, and he wiggled in the hold he was kept beneath, enjoying in earnest this overture to the best fuck he was going to have all week.

“Are you ready my kitten?” The man behind him asked, tugging lightly on the plug to excite him.

“Yes!”

“Mhm, well, I think I’ll allow myself to be the judge of that…”

The hand on the plug held on a little firmer to the base and pushed it in as far as it would go, a whine surfacing from Robert as the smooth metal glided smoothly over his sweet spot, barely a feeling really, but contact nonetheless, and enough contact to made his cock twitch in its underwear.

His teeth clenched as he enjoyed it, not yet moaning, and only batted his eyelashes at Eames, silently begging for a certain _something_ to replace it.

To his joy, it was removed the second his lashes kissed his cheeks, and while the emptiness was uneasy, leaving him barren of all girth and weight, the insertion of two fingers followed it in quick succession, making him finally moan,

“ _Fuck!_ ” They curled inside, targeting that pleasure gland, massaging it with deep, pressing, rubs. “Ah, Daddy, fuck me with your fingers!” He yelped, melting into his own mewls while he endured every hook and thrust they provided.

Eames pushed deeper with them, supplying him with so many constant, carnal caresses, that his legs shook, and his voice broke with such effeminate whines that every single new noise he managed to release drew the blood in Eames’ veins to his rock hard cock like a magnet.

“That’s a good boy…” He praised him for it, elongating every word to give them more weight, more meaning, more truth, seeing him revel in each and every one, the anticipation of the fact’s confirmation keeping him on edge.

“Am I?” Robert pleaded to know again, the cusp of his climax approaching with further speed.

“Of course, kitten,” The man confirmed, “Of course you’re my good boy…”

He slipped in a third without offering a warning, and Robert shrieked, buckling his body to lean over the sofa’s armrest, head hanging down while his eyes stung with tears of pleasure,

“Mhm?!” He was close, “I’m Daddy’s good boy?!” Dangerously close, “Right there!” So close he was touching it, “You’re gonna make me come!” And that was all the notice Eames got before the man’s untouched cock was spilling into his panties, clenching around Eames’ digits as the bliss flooded his system.

They were withdrawn a few seconds later, and after letting him adjust to their absence, he knelt back up on the sofa, pressing himself behind him, chest flush to his back. The contact startled him, his body still reeling from his orgasm, and the bell gave out its little noise with the subtle turn of his head.

“You okay, my little kitten?”

“Are-” His own panting breaths interrupted his speech, but he continued with each laboured sigh between his words, “Are you gonna fuck me, Daddy?”

The dress was lifted up further with a tentative hand, revealing the panties that had been pushed to the side to accommodate his plug, and they were just as slowly pulled down to his thighs as Eames replied,

“You’re not too tired?” His hand reclaimed hold of his cock, stroking it calmly as he awaited the response. All he got was a frustrated, semi-fucked out groan. “You’re not too tired from my fingers?” The head was shaken, hair flopping over his forehead, golden bell ringing, and Eames only asked one more question, “Not too tired from coming once already?”

“I want it!” Robert mewled, kicking his feet into the couch cushions with exasperation, seemingly gotten all his energy back at the mention of perhaps being able to come again, and he pushed his arse back into Eames’ body, brushing it against the side of his cock.

Gradually dragging it across his smooth cheek, Eames pressed the head of his cock onto the pink rim of Robert’s tight hole to tease it with potential of entry. 

“Yeah, you want it.”

“Yeah!”

He pushed in the moment Robert’s desire was confirmed again, sinking just the tip into his heat, groaning aloud to voice his immediate pleasure. A hand snapped from his waist and up to his soft hair, grasping to his locks to pull him upwards and lean into it.

“Take it then.”

Not needing to be told twice, Fischer pushed himself back, immersing the whole of Eames’ cock inch by inch inside of himself, feeling it brush against his over-sensitive prostate and produce another whine of substantial volume for the other man’s enjoyment. Once he’d reached the hilt, skin on skin contact being made, his hair was released and his body fell back over the arm, hands grasping at the fabric to brace for the beginning of Eames’ thrusts.

The swift draw in and out happened in a mere second, and Robert clocked it as soon as that initial slam to his sweet-spot was made, the next cry of his higher and whinier, mouth open for his hot breaths to come in and out. “Too much, kitten? You can’t take Daddy’s cock all the way?” Eames asked him, the condescension in his tone equally aggravating and arousing, and he could only enunciate a single word in response,

“More!”

“More?”

Another harsh thrust followed along, jolting Robert’s body beneath him, his spent cock giving a painful twitch in reply to the burning arousal in his loins. He nodded and pouted and moaned, in that order, and without the heart to give further preamble, Eames began his rhythm, starting slow, calm and savouring, then progressing into raw, unbridled and harsh drives that had the man beneath him become a writhing mess.

Every single one had his skirt bouncing on his hips, his bell jingling constantly, and his mouth either moaning, panting, or saying ‘Daddy’, at one point all three at the same time, and the combination was unadulterated _heaven_ on Eames’ ears.

“I’m your _good_ boy!” Robert proclaimed, feeling himself be able to near a second climax if only he could touch his weeping dick, “I am, I am!”

He thought it’d earn him the right to contact, as he duly deserved, and yet the only contact he was met with was the stinging sensation of Eames’ palm on his arse cheek, a reprimanding blow to put him in his place,

“Do good boys do what they’re told?” Eames asked him, punctuating his question with a thrust of knee-buckling strength, Robert’s body nearly collapsing on the sofa, only held up by the strong grip of the hand at his middle.

“Yes?!” Was his only option for reply, and he barely even accomplished it with his breathless voice, his mouth practically drooling over the cushions from the ever consistent thrusts.

“Then you’ll beg for what you want, won’t you?” 

“Yes, yes! Please touch me!” He cried, tears starting to well up in his eyes again, the onslaught that was Eames’ fucking from behind the sole cause of such overwhelming sensation.

“Where?”

“Touch my cock, Daddy, I’m begging you!”

From the second it took for Eames to reach his hand around and dip it beneath the waistband of his panties to hold onto said cock, and the other it took to thrust into his tight hole once more, Robert came again, spurting himself out and into the hand that held him, shaking all the while. “Ah, thank you, sir!” He sighed, the overstimulation forcing the pent-up tears to finally roll cleanly down his cheeks and into the creases of his smile, wetting his lips with their salty taste.

He wasn’t released from Eames’ grip once he was finished, either, and his dick remained in that palm, being tugged with gentle cadence as the contrasting hits of that cock slammed into him, joined with deep grunts and another charge,

“Tell me how much you love this cock, kitten, tell me how much you love it.”

“Oh, Daddy! I love it so much, fuck me, ah!”

“You’ll let me fill you up?” He asked, ready for the orgasm to wash over him too and spill inside of Robert, just as he deserved.

“ _Please!_ ”

The next thrust had him coming, gripping tight to both Fischer’s waist and cock, milking him dry of everything he had as he released his own spoils deep inside, leaning his body flush with his back again while an afterglow began to radiate over his skin.

Silence was back amongst them, save for their panting breaths and subtle little groans. Then the bell jingled again; Robert turning his head to look back at Eames. 

“Thank you, sir…” He whispered, biting at his lip as the other man pulled out of him, gently relieving his weight from his body and kneeling behind to look back on what he’d left behind. His spoils dripped out of Robert’s used hole and into the panties that had been pulled down to his thighs. 

“You’ll get this cleaned up, won’t you?” He smirked.

Fischer giggled sweetly and let himself fall into the comfort of the couch’s embrace.

“Of course, sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) I always read comments, I appreciate them a lot ♥ Check me out on [Tumblr](https://100dabbo.tumblr.com/)!


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